


half awake

by no_reservations



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drug Use, Drugged Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1675025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_reservations/pseuds/no_reservations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> </p><p>Harry is a jaded celebrity at the mercy of his squeaky-clean image, escaping into drugs and one-night stands to take the edge off. Or put it back on.</p><p> <br/>It was really just a matter of time before he slipped up.</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	half awake

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on "Fake Empire" by The National, and "Lover I don't have to Love" by Bright Eyes.

 

 

 

The glow of the lanterns made the short rainfall glisten on the asphalt as he crossed the bridge. A fog was rising up from the river, bathing it all in a haze.

 

He'd had a few before heading out, trying to drink up the will to go, and the slow buzz made it all seem the more unreal. Fall was pushing in with a beckon of death and unclaimed tomorrows, and he briefly wished he'd grabbed a coat. But there was still a bit of summer left, and he was striving to ride it out as long as he could. Plus it wasn't like he'd be here long. Seasons were relative after all when you had the whole world at your feet.

 

He was probably looking forward more to the drugs and booze than the people as he made his way to the address, an inconspicuous building nestled by the river. Four, maybe five stories; the century old facade slowly crumbling as paint faded to a nondescript grey.

 

Entering he scanned the crowd, trying to find the birthday boy. Who knew he had so many celebrity friends. He stopped by the bar first, defaulting to a shot of whiskey and a bottle of beer at their lack of a menu. Downing the shot he sipping the beer slowly as he made the rounds.

 

A magician was dazzling some drunk girls with his cards. A boy was pushed past him as he watched, blindfolded, being led towards a curtain that said only "the maze". He briefly wondered what sort of maze they had in mind, as visions of glory holes filled his head. He'd probably seen it all at this point, nothing would surprise him.

 

He climbed the stairs, entering a room with a stripper pole. A twink of a boy was swinging around it, drink in his hand as his friends cheered him on. The next held a bed covered in plastic sheets, three pretty girls wrestling on it, giggling madly. Their antics went unnoticed by the rest of the guests, which made it all the more amusing. A straight guy's dream wasted on a gay guy's party. He sent them an appreciative look as he took a sip of his beer, and one of the girls flipped the other, pinning her to the bed. They noticed his gaze amongst their laughter and beckoned him drunkenly towards them; he just smiled before moving on.

 

The next held the dance floor, a cool blast of air and fog pushing him through the doorway. Bodies were swirling and writhing to the heavy beat, losing themselves to the music. Away from the door the temperature quickly rose from the combined body heat. A few of the guests had already forsaken their shirts; glistening bodies that were highlighted by the strobe lights. They undulating and moved in sensuous rhythms. Skin against skin.

 

He tipped the bottle back to his lips as his eyes narrowed at the view. Holding the bottle up to the light, he sighed and made his way to the upper bar for a refill.

 

"Mate and vodka," he requested this time, having spotted the bottles behind the barkeep. The man nodded, handing him the bottle. He took a deep pull before handing it back, and it was filled back up again with vodka. He paid the ridiculously club price before leaning back against the bar and scanning the crowd again. He was so bored already. Bored of this kind of music, of these kinds of people, of this kind of scene. Why had he even bothered to come?

 

"Harry! You came!" the birthday boy exclaimed, drawing him into a drunken hug. "I'm so happy. Isn't this awesome?" He waved around with drink in hand.

 

"Yes, yes it is." He smiled at his friend, glad he was enjoying his birthday.

 

"Come come!" He found himself being dragged into the bathroom by his friend and entourage, and they locked the door behind him. One of them spread the coke out on a sheet, pushing it into a line for him. His friend handed him a rolled up bill, and he took it, leaning down and insufflating without thinking. It hit his system with a burn and his friend hit him on the back with a grin as he took the bill back and leaned down for his own hit.

 

"Well, Harry, enjoy yourself. I'm apparently off to the maze," he purred into his ear, already being dragged off by his accomplices.

 

Harry waved him off and grinned to himself as he took another sip. Typical. He might as well leave now. Surrounded by a bunch of strangers getting wasted in the name of someone they probably didn't even know.

 

He sat back down at the bar and swirled around to survey the dance floor as the drug hit his system. The crowd wasn't that bad, but nothing really caught his eye. Just a bunch of desperates looking for a quick lay, trying to advertise their sexual prowess through their dance moves. He was taking another sip and contemplating the best street to catch a cab from, when the strobe lights pick out a figure in the crowd for him.

 

The stage fog seemed to twirl around him in an artful sway, highlighting all his best features. Carefully styled hair, strong jaw, a tight shirt clinging to his body, and pants that hugged his ass... and oh, what an ass that was. Harry found himself off his perch without realizing it, taking another sip of his laced mate as he slunk across the room.

 

The beat was pounding through him, the coke making him present and focused... focused on the boy moving carelessly to the beat. He wasn't one to distinguish – girl, boy, as long as it was hot. He just had to be a little more careful with the latter, didn't want to end up all over the tabloids again.

 

He moved into position before the boy, swaying to the music. But the boy's eyes were closed, lost to the beat.

 

He moved in closer, studying his features. The way the light glinted off his cheekbones, the slight stubble along his jaw, the curve of his lips. Harry moved in further, resisting the urge to grab his hips and drag him towards him, flush against his body so that they could grind against each other to the beat of the DJ.

 

A few of his mate's friends joined him on the dance floor, circling around him and undulating against him in parodies of wantonness, and he threw his head back with a laugh. They moved against him, sliding their arms along his body and he looked back down, locking eyes with the boy. He was looking back, the flicks of the lights casting his eyes in alternating shadows and bright flashes of desire. Harry moved towards him, his impromptu backup dancers around them, and he drew him in, pulling at his shirt.

 

He came readily, much to Harry's surprise. They danced together, a slow grind and scintillating slide of bodies, lost in the throng. The fog shot back on to swirl around them, momentarily cutting them off from the rest of the world.

 

Harry took another sip from his bottle, suddenly feeling more drunk than he had a right to be. But then again, he did pre-funk before coming here. Moving in, he stroked up the boy's neck to the beat and he leaned into his touch as he continued to move to the music.

 

He caressed the side of the boy's face, moving in closer, in between his legs. It was a teenage move, but he was just wasted enough to enjoy it. He leaned in further as they ground against each other, nuzzling at the boy's neck as he felt his cock harden against his thigh.

 

"Let's get out of here," he whispered into his ear, which probably was closer to a shout to be heard over the music. The boy nodded, and Harry caught his wrist as he dragged him off the dance floor as he nodded at his friend's friends.

 

 

They reconvened in the bathroom to another plate of coke set up in pretty little lines.

 

"I like your shoes," Harry told the boy, who was standing in the dim bathroom looking a little lost. He bent down to take another pull, before handing the bill to the boy, who took a second before taking it.

 

"Go on." He padded him on the back as the boy bent down, looking at the white powder before slowly placing the rolled up bill against it. He hesitated as he looked up at him, an odd expression ghosting over his face, but Harry just smirked back at him. The boy looked back down, covering his other nostril before he insufflated. He sniffed once, closing his eyes as he straightened up. And then he handed the bill to the next boy in line as he turned back to him.

 

Harry grinned at him, noting the immediate effects of the drug. "Let's go back to my place," he purred into his ear, advancing on him. The boy just nodded, letting himself be dragged from the bathroom.

 

One of the boys pressed something into his hand as he left the bathroom, and Harry nodded at him, his other hand busy fondling the ass he was leading out the door.

 

 

The streets glimmered with the shine of another missed rainfall and were mostly deserted, though it shouldn't have come as much of a surprise seeing as it was the middle of the night in the middle of the week after all. They walked on a bit unsteadily, arm in arm. Harry took a pull from the bottle he'd been handed on the way out the door, before handing it to the boy. He took a deep swallow before handing it back with a grin. He kissed the boy on the cheek, noting his shy smile, and they continued on.

 

 

A blur of streets, a short cab ride, a make-out session against a wall. Another when they crossed a bridge. The boy's tongue was in his mouth and Harry had his hands on the lapel of his blazer. He clutched the fabric tightly as he pushed him against the railing, the shine of the lantern like a warm glow of approval. Hands under his t-shirt, feeling his skin. Soft lips, a sliding tongue, the scratch of stubble. Another sip of booze, another kiss, an arm around him as they walked on.

 

 

They got back to his hotel, his head in a bit of a daze and his cock straining in his jeans. The drugs and the want made him feel like he was burning up with a fever, caught in a fog of need. A last presence of mind had him withdrawing his hand from the boy's back pocket as they crossed the lobby.

 

He led him to the lift as the bellhop watched them. It probably wasn't wise to lead strangers here, but then again, he'd be gone by tomorrow. The boy followed without question, and as the doors closed Harry pushed him against the wall again, holding his face in place with his hands as he reconnected their lips. The boy moaned against him, allowing him access, and Harry felt intoxicated... by him – he just couldn't keep his hands off.

 

Stroking his tongue in, he slipped the pill under the boy's tongue. Pulling back, he kissed his lips again before looking into his eyes. The boy just looked back calmly as he swallowed.

 

The door opened to the private entrance as he led them in. His label had procured the best as always, a lavish suite with more room than one person could ever make use of. He made his way to the freestanding kitchen, opening the glass refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of pure refreshment harvested from an island probably running out of it.

 

"Water?" He waved it and the boy nodded while looking at a stove which had never seen use. He tossed the bottle and the boy almost missed it, grabbing for it awkwardly at the last moment.

 

Grinning at him, he cracked the top of his own and took a long swallow, before walking towards the pedestal that was the open bedroom.

 

His shirt quickly landed on the floor, followed by his jeans, and he poured the rest of the water over himself in an effort to cool down. He flicked it out of his eyes with a shake of the head, and looked back at the boy still standing by the kitchen. The bottle was hovering at his lips, frozen in place as he stared at him.

 

Harry could feel the half-grin tugging at his lips. "Well, come on then." He stood by the edge of the bed, waiting for him to come running.

 

And he all but did, taking off his blazer and placing it carefully over the back of the couch, unlike Harry's clothes which were all over the floor. He approached cautiously, eyes running over the sight in front of him, and Harry let him look, for he had no insecurities as far as his body was concerned.

 

"Like what you see?" His voice came out low, devoid of inflection.

 

The boy's eyes returned to his face, the blown pupils probably more due to the drugs, but the look of lust was unmistakable. Harry licked his lips and pulled him close.

 

Another blur of hands and mouths, clothing being removed and tossed carelessly around the room. Lips on his neck, hands on his skin, a hard cock brushing against his own.

 

Harry flipped them, running his hands through sandy brown hair, gripping it tightly as he leaned down and seized his lips again. The boy moaned into his mouth, his tongue sliding over his own. The air escaped them in pants, but they were unwilling to break away to get a proper breath. He shifted his head to get a better angle, continuing to fist the boy's hair as he rutted down on him.

 

The boy pushed up against him, pressing their cocks closer together. The sweet flutter of arousal shot through him, and he finally broke away from that delicious mouth with a groan, coming to bite at his neck as his hand traveled downwards.

 

He grasped both of their members, tugging up with a squeeze and the boy arched off the bed beneath him. Harry chuckled against his neck, a little in awe at the creature before him. He was so eager for it, so transparent, so wanton, but not to the point of becoming ridiculous. No, it just made it hotter. He was putty in his hands.

 

The x was hitting him now, whittling away at his mind to give way to pure sensation. The feel of a throbbing cock. The slide of skin. The taste of a mouth.

 

A condom was in his hand, lube on his fingers, the swell of an ass before him. The blur of the breach, a throaty cry, a boy being pushed forward on the bed by each thrust. The feeling of hot muscles clenching around him, his own groans, his hands gripping that ass tightly.

 

Harry lost himself to it, awash in the act. It was heaven, a freeing tumble of rutting bodies glistening with sweat and calling out in the carnal language of gasping cries, grunts and moans. The most primal act, alluded to in every step and sway on the dance floor.

 

A switch of positions, a leg on his shoulder, bright blue eyes staring lustfully back a him. Pliant and wanting. There and ready. He leaned back down, needing to taste that tongue again, those lips, and so he did. And he never wanted this night to end.

 

 

The incessant vibrations of his phone finally awoke him, sprawled at a careless angle across the king-sized bed. He groaned as he reached for it, shutting it off without looking and returning to burrowing in his sheets. His hand brushed against something and he pawed at it, feeling the rough texture of paper. Lifting his head up a little, he realized he was alone in his suite, his one-night stand having apparently made a timely exit.

 

Rubbing at his eyes, he blearily stared at the paper in his hands, trying to focus enough to make out the words. "Thank you," was all it said. Signed by the boy's name.

 

"Louis," Harry mumbled to himself, realizing he'd never even asked his name. His eyes fell back closed as hazy memories of last night slowly returned to him, and he grinned into his pillow.

 

 

His stylist finally got him out of bed a few hours later, and he groggily slumped down on the chair after a quick shower. She tutted at him as she opened her kit and went to work.

 

"Quite the night you had..." She leveled him a look while massaging moisturizer into his skin. Harry sighed to himself, knowing he must look like shit after his bender.

 

He really wasn't looking forward to the round of interviews he had scheduled for today. He was so tired of it all. Maybe partying so hard last night had been a bit of a mistake... no, of course it was. It always was. But then bright blue eyes flashed in his mind's eye, and he had to smirk. The memories alone would be enough to get him through the day.

 

Flicking on his phone again for something to do, he frowned at the long list of missed calls and new texts. This was a little excessive, even for him.

 

He scrolled down the list, not sure which to check first. He flicked through twitter instead, his eye catching a somewhat worrying retweet. "Shocking exclusive" and "Harry Styles" weren't words he liked reading together first thing in the morning. He clicked on the link all the same, and his heart stopped in his chest for a second before starting back up with a painful misstep.

 

There, caught by some paparazzo working overtime, was the boy from last night and him standing on a bridge. The shot could have been quite romantic had the circumstances not been so damning. A fog was rising from the river and an antique lantern was casting them in a warm glow, highlighting their very passionate embrace.

 

Harry swallowed with a click, feeling the heat spread to his cheeks. It could probably still be explained away with some careful PR – a trick of the light, a whisper to the ear... but what had really stopped his heart was the tag line underneath it.

 

'International superstar and heartthrob Harry Styles caught in passionate embrace with up and coming openly-gay singer Louis Tomlinson!'

 

Harry let out a groan as he covered his face with his hands. Of all the people to randomly hook up in a club with. How had he not connected the dots? Why hadn't anyone said anything?

 

His stylist tutted again, and rubbed his shoulders. He realized then that she'd already known. That the whole world already knew. And suddenly the thought of a day filled with interviews just became that much more unbearable.

 

He took a shaky breath, steeling himself as he picked his phone up again and scrolled down to his agent. On the way a new contact caught his eyes, obviously not entered by himself.

 

_The boy from last night _, was all it read.__

 

 

 


End file.
